


The Heavens Blaze Forth

by Ineffable lawr (LawrVert)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, Fluff, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Fall AU, Sensuality, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29433792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrVert/pseuds/Ineffable%20lawr
Summary: Long before he was Crowley, Raphael wove the ether to create stars. In Aziraphale, he found a kindred spirit and love of a lifetime, but they were torn apart when Crowley's tendency to ask the wrong questions and associate with the wrong angels caused him to fall.  In Eden, he meets Aziraphale again, but the angel no longer remembers their past. Crowley hopes one day, they will rediscover the happiness and love they once had, but until then, he is content to simply be close to the angel whenever he can. Through his interactions with Edmond Halley, he is finally able to study the stars he once created even if he can no longer hold them in his hands.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	The Heavens Blaze Forth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taurusattacks78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taurusattacks78/gifts).



Raphael stood amongst creation and death, clouds of color and light twisting around each other to form a faint, glowing core. For a moment, he held the burning heart of the star in his hands. That part still managed to bring a tear to the starmaker’s eyes even after so many billions of years. No two stars were alike Raphael, and Raphael liked to think that with the ether and vapors of starstuff, there was a bit of himself in each one. Long ago, eons before the birth of the little star he was forming, the angel had been there at the death of the first White Dwarf and mourned it. He was an inquisitive creature, often chastised by the other angels for being too curious, and he had asked his creator, voice trembling with emotion, why the star had to die. The rather unsatisfactory answer he received was that everything has a season and everything must die. Raphael took some comfort from the fact that the explosion of that star and the clouds and vapors that gathered in the aftermath created something truly beautiful. The starmaker transformed it into an interstellar nursery, and there he took refuge when the halls of heaven became too sterile and cold for him. 

With a few more adjustments and the addition of the outer layers of vapors, Crowley sent the star to its home, smiling at the new constellation it was helping to form. He had already named it in angelic language, although the humans would come along one day and muck it up with number designations and weird animal and mythological names. 

"Very nice work, Raphael. Still a little below your quota for the week but not bad." 

Raphael knew this was high praise from his stern supervisor. Too old to be a starmaker, Kokabiel worked behind a desk now. Although his face was unlined and luminous, his green eyes were weary. 

"You know you can't rush perfection, Koka." Raphael shrugged, winding a bit of ether around his finger like a golden bauble. 

"Just don't miss your quota or Gabe will pay me a visit. You know how much I hate it when he drops by." 

"Don’t worry, boss. It's only halfway through this rotation." 

Nodding, Kokabiel turned in a flutter of diaphanous robes and left him alone. He had been one of the greatest Starmakers before the archangels promoted him to supervisor. Raphael knew he missed it from the gentle advice he gave and the way he stared longingly at the star fields.

Raphael would gladly stay in the star fields of heaven alone than deal with heaven's politics. It wasn’t as if the archangels like Gabriel had any idea what the Starmakers actually did anyway. 

Raphael even preferred to sleep among the stars, his angelic nature and his ability to make himself a cloak of the ether shielding him from the cold of deep space. It was long after his work ended that he heard a voice softly singing some celestial harmonies and the soft flapping of wings. 

An angel, perhaps one of the most beautiful in all creation, was flying among the stars and softly singing. In the starlight, the flaxen hair and milk-pale skin seemed to glow as if he were lit from within by the heart of a star. 

Not wanting to startle him, he called out, "Hullo there. Lovely voice." Immediately, Raphael's cheeks burned fearing he'd been too forward. 

The angel turned, lighted on a cloud, and folded his wings behind him primly. "Oh, I do hope I wasn't bothering you. So hard to find a quiet place to think or sing." 

"No--your song was beautiful."  _ And so are you. _

Eyes, the deep blue of sapphires fixed him in their gaze, fine lines at the corners only making him more endearing when he smiled. 

"The archangels gave me quite the stern reprimand for singing while I work. It gets so tiring doing the same thing every day. Why not sing to lighten the mood." Fidgeting a bit on the cloud, he adjusted his robes. "When we aren't doing heavenly regiment drills, we're submitting scrolls. Endless scrolls." 

"I wouldn’t know about that--" Raphael looked at him, realising he still didn't know his name. 

"Aziraphale," he supplied, straightening up with pride. "Principality." 

"Raphael. Starmaker." He joined the angel on the cloud. "That’s why I haven't seen you around. Principalities usually don't leave the halls of heaven." 

"No. I suppose they don't. Oh, you won't tell them I left my post. Will you?" Aziraphale wrung his hands. 

"Of course not." Raphael smiled. "I don't get a lot of visitors other than Kokabiel out here." 

"I've always been fascinated by what you do--starmaking." Aziraphale waved his hand in a sweeping gesture. 

"Would you--like to see more?" Raphael asked, knowing he wasn't encouraged to give tours, but quite liking this angel and perhaps even wanting to impress him. 

Crowley led him to a beautiful vista of towering columns of gas in oranges, browns, deep blues and greens. Within the dust clouds were hundreds of stars of varying sizes and ages. 

Aziraphale looked at it in awed silence for a long time, then, finally looked back at Raphael and smiled. "It’s wonderful. I've never seen colors like this." 

"It's my first Nebula. When a star dies, it doesn't just fizzle out and grow cold. It explodes into a supernova. Then, these remnants of the old star create the perfect conditions for new stars." 

"Isn't it a bit sad that an old star had to die?" Aziraphale asked softly, hands straightening folds in his robes. 

"I always thought so too." Raphael looked at Aziraphale again, the shining blue of his eyes, the rosy color in his cheeks, round and begging to be kissed. 

"Do you want to see a galaxy I made? We'll have to fly a little bit." 

"I'd love to." Aziraphale smiled and stood up, stretching wings with glorious silvery-white feathers.

Raphael stretched his own, white and golden feathers always a bit unkempt from flying through the etherium. 

They flew, Aziraphale right at his side, moving gracefully in flight. Soon, they reached a stunning spiral galaxy with thousands of stars. 

"It’s beautiful. Raphael--there are so many stars. Did you really make all of them?" Aziraphale hovered there, starlight in his eyes as they approached. 

"Yes. The planets aren’t my department though." Raphael chuckled. 

"Still--imagine being able to create something this wonderful." 

"Yeah--it can be." Raphael smiled. "But I'm sure you're just as amazing at your job." 

"Not really. At least not according to Gabriel." Aziraphale shook his head. "He's always finding something wrong. Some reason to issue a reprimand." 

"Who could ever find fault with you?" Raphael thought Aziraphale was one of the most charming angels he had ever met. There was something utterly endearing about all his little quirks and how much he seemed to love the starmaker’s creations. He vowed to pull rank if needed if he ever caught Gabriel bullying Aziraphale. Raphael was still a high-ranking archangel afterall. 

"I should probably--get back," Aziraphale muttered. "Still a lot to do."

"Alright. You know you can always come back if you need to get away for awhile." Raphael smiled, watching the angel stretch his wings then fly away beyond a distant and uninhabited world.

* * *

Raphael felt quite out of place when he walked the halls of heaven, but he was compelled after their first meeting to seek Aziraphale out again. After making a few inquiries, he found him in the archives. Aziraphale hovered near one of the towering white shelves overflowing with scrolls. Presently, he was occupied with reading one and evidently quite engrossed as he failed to hear Raphael approaching. 

"Must be quite a good read," Raphael called, startling the angel. Aziraphale's eyes flashed with irritation that soon dissolved into joy. 

"Well, hello, my dear. Anything I can help you with? Gliding down to land in front of him, Aziraphale let his eyes flick up and down coyly. 

"No. I just wanted to see you again. Took me a long time to find you. You forgot to tell me where you worked." 

"Well, I hardly thought the archives would impress an archangel." Aziraphale shrugged. 

"Now I know why you smell of old parchment." Raphael blushed at his own complete lack of finesse. "I mean--ngk--nothing wrong with that. Quite pleasant actually." 

Just as Raphael was starting to recover some dignity, Gabriel approached looking annoyed though he feigned politeness and smiled. 

"Raphael." he offered a curt nod. 

"Ah, Gabriel. Always a pleasure." Raphael returned his nod. 

"Aziraphale--do you have the scrolls i requested?" 

"Been a bit busy here, but you’ll have them by the end of the day." Aziraphale nearly dropped one of his scrolls. 

"I had better have them or we might have to place a limit on your miracles again." 

Smiling his most charming smile, Raphael stepped up to him. "Forgive me, Gabriel. I delayed him. I asked him to pull some documents for me. It was rather urgent." 

"My requests are just as urgent." Gabriel bristled. 

"Well, maybe, but the thing is, technically, I outrank you, Gabe." Raphael took particular delight in ruffling Gabe’s feathers whenever he could. It was worth any headache to watch Gabriel storm off with a sour expression.

"Did you actually just stand up to the archangel Gabriel?" 

"Someone had to. He can be a right bastard." Raphael grinned. 

"Noone's ever done that for me before." Aziraphale returned his smile, rather astonished. 

“So--why don’t you show me around?” Raphael made a sweeping gesture with one arm. “I’ve never seen the archives before.” 

“It’s hardly as exciting as starmaking. Are you sure it wouldn’t bore you?” Aziraphale straightened up, wiggled in place. 

“Not at all.” Raphael smiled and followed the angel through row upon row of towering shelves. 

“There’s everything you ever wanted to know about--well--everything. Every angel created, every significant moment in heaven, even some of the design concepts for God’s new project.” 

“I remember something about that at a briefing. Probably forgot most of it by now since it was Gabriel talking.” They both shared a quiet laugh at that. 

“I love everything about the archives--the smell of the parchment, the painted scrolls, the heavenly chorales and poetry. Most of all, I love all the ideas and dreams within these scrolls.” Raphael loved the way Aziraphale’s eyes lit up when he wandered the stacks. His hands caressed the rolls delicately, for a moment making Crowley wonder how it would feel to be touched so reverently by those soft hands. 

Aziraphale’s hands stopped on a scroll rolled tightly and secured with a golden band. Retrieving it, he unrolled it and began to read. “Just as the first star filled the void with light, may you, her beloved children feel the light of her love. More than anything, have love in your hearts for Her and all her creation.” 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Aziraphale whispered. 

“I suppose Love was all you needed in the old days. No one worrying about productivity or hierarchy,” Raphael answered almost wistfully. 

Replacing the scroll, Aziraphale straightened his robes then turned back to Raphael. “Once, Love was thought to be the purest emotion. ” 

“We are beings of love, after all.” Raphael spoke quietly, already close to speaking far too frankly. Already, he felt affection for the archivist. How could he not adore the flaxen curls, rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyes bluer than the most precious sapphires? 

After that, Raphael bid Aziraphale a good day before too many of his colleagues could speculate, and they agreed to meet again before the week was out. 

  
  


Aziraphale sat across from Raphael in a room in the archives with a large picture window that looked out on a new blue and green planet, God’s newest project. “You have to admit, it is rather lovely.” Aziraphale smiled softly. 

“Yeah, it is. You haven’t had any more trouble with Gabriel? Have you?” Raphael narrowed his eyes. 

“The odd comment here or there about my use of miracles or the condition of my corporation, but nothing too serious. I’m sure he’ll be happy to be rid of me.” 

Raphael leaned forward, hands gripping the table. “What do you mean? Are you in trouble? I swear I’ll--” 

“No, my dear. Nothing of the sort. I’m being reassigned to Earth.” 

“Earth? When? Why?” Raphael’s stomach lurched at the thought of losing his one true friend. 

“The other archangels apparently feel I would be better suited for field work. I think they just want me out of their sight.” 

“They didn’t consult me. If you ask me, you’re a better angel than anyone. I could make an appeal on your behalf.” Raphael was already scooting his chair back and starting to stand up. 

Aziraphale placed a hand on his arm. “Better not. Besides, have you seen the design concepts for Eden? It’s lovely. And you could arrange to visit me there one day.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to Her?” Raphael stared rather stunned at the angel’s hand still resting on his arm. 

Noticing him staring, Aziraphale quickly withdrew his hand, misinterpreting the gesture, and lowered his voice. “Gabriel and the others have been requesting the files of certain angels and I don’t know why. Most of them are model angels. Even Lucifer himself is on his list.” 

“No? Lucifer? God’s first angel? What was his crime--being too perfect?” Raphael threw back his head and laughed, drawing stern looks from one of the angels at the information desk.

“Lucifer is brash. He asks too many questions.” 

“What’s wrong with that. He can be a bit of a cocky git, but he’s always been decent to me.” 

“One hears things working in the archives. The other archangels don’t like it when angels ask questions. They consider it defiance.” Aziraphale’s eyes darted nervously around the archives, searching for anyone who could be listening in on their conversation. “We aren’t supposed to question her divine plan.”

“Why did She make us with brains and free will if we aren’t supposed to ask questions?” 

“Just promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want you to end up on that list.” 

“Don’t worry, angel. No one really pays attention to the star makers.” Raphael smiled reassuringly. “Why don’t you come and visit me when your shift ends. There’s still so much I want to show you.” 

“I’d like that very much.” Aziraphale wiggled in his chair in a way that Raphael always found incredibly endearing. 

  
  


On the way back to his workshop, Raphael heard a booming voice call his name. “Raph! Hey, Raph! I haven’t seen you in ages!” Recognizing the voice, Raphael turned with some hesitation, knowing he was in for a very long conversation. 

“Lucifer! How are you?” Raphael found himself pulled into an uncomfortably tight embrace. 

When the taller angel finally released him, he smiled and tossed a long mane of golden curls behind his shoulder. “Good as can be expected. Mother’s so busy with Earth, I never see Her again. When’s the last time she spoke to us?” 

Raphael started to speak. “Well--there was--” He frowned. “Actually I don’t remember.” 

“She only talks to us through the Metatron or Gabriel these days. All she cares about is the new child she’ll have and making everything perfect for him. And did you hear what she’s naming him?” Lucifer glared and crossed his arms, summer sky colored eyes flashing with contempt. 

“No. What?” Raphael very much regretted stopping to talk to Lucifer, an angel who loved gossip and had the reputation for being more than just a little loquacious. 

“Adam. What kind of a name is Adam? It’s not majestic? It’s not special?” 

“Maybe she just wanted something simple?” Raphael shrugged and started inching away. 

“Name like that is not going to be easy for a kid to bear if you ask me.” Lucifer sighed, “Well, I’m not consulted on any matters of Creation.” 

Just as Raphael was about to rattle off an excuse and sneak away, Lucifer cleared his throat and began to speak again. “There are those of us who aren’t happy with the way things are going, who want things to change. We meet once a month.” 

“I dunno, Lucifer. That’s really not my scene. I just work with stars. I’d rather stay out of Heaven’s politics.” Raphael shook his head, Aziraphale’s warning resounding in his ears. 

“Just think about it. You have vision, Raphael. You could help us.” The perfect cupid’s bow of Lucifer’s lips turned downward, and his eyes grew almost misty. Later, many years after his banishment, walking in a museum with Aziraphale, Crowley would recall Lucifer looking like some of the Greek and Russian Orthodox icons. 

“Sure. I’ll think about it. I have to get back to work. Don’t want my quota to be too low.” Raphael turned, heart filled with thoughts of Aziraphale. The memory of the briefest touch of his soft hands on his arm, warmed him as much as basking in the incandescent glow of a star. 

* * *

Raphael held up a schematic of a constellation that would contain a star the humans would call Polaris. They would name it after a bear of all things, which would be a continual source of irritation to him because it didn’t look like a bloody bear at all. His elegant, slender fingers moved across the scroll, tracing the placement, and then, one by one, he lifted his hands and sent newly born stars to their homes, following the plans. There were occasions when he took certain liberties--nothing that anyone who wasn’t a starmaker would notice. In his mind, he had already named the brightest star Aziraphale for the one who occupied his thoughts at all times and had become his guiding star. Finished with his work, he stepped back to examine his creation. 

Behind him, he heard the flapping of wings like the turning of a book’s pages in the wind, and he was met by Aziraphale who clapped delightedly. “I hope I didn’t disturb you. I do love to watch you work. You’re very intense when you’re working.” 

“Not at all. I was just finishing up. What do you think?” Suddenly, Raphael felt utterly naked before his gaze. It was one thing to have Koka critique his work, but Aziraphale was something altogether different. He wanted--needed Aziraphale’s approval. 

“It’s wonderful. What is that bright star called?” Aziraphale pointed to Polaris. 

“It’s going to be a guiding star for the humans one day.” Raphael’s voice was scarcely above a whisper. “I named it after you.” 

“You what?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened and his mouth fell agape. 

“I imagine it will have another name one day, but to me, it will always be Aziraphale.” Raphael was still looking at his feet, afraid to look in Aziraphale’s eyes and see disapproval or revulsion there. 

“I never dreamed anyone would name a star after me,” Aziraphale was suddenly there, lifting his chin, and looking at him with so much wonder, and--affection?” Raphael found himself unable to speak and absolutely frozen, and misreading his behavior as discomfort, Aziraphale stepped back with a wounded look. 

“Aziraphale--wait!” He noticed a bit of silvery dust coating the angel’s cheek and reached forward to brush it away. “You have a bit of starstuff. Just there.” 

Aziraphale leaned into his hand, then turned his head and pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb, the feeling of the soft lips sending a brief tingling warmth all down his arm. 

“Was that too forward of me?” Aziraphale started to pull away, but Raphael quickly shook his head, breath catching in his throat. Aziraphale kissed his palm and Raphael thought he might lose his footing. The soft kiss on the inside of his wrist drew a gasp from his lips. “What is this?” 

“I’m not sure I know, my dear, but I just wanted to kiss your hands. I’ve always found them so beautiful. May I--may I kiss you too, Aziraphale?” 

Aziraphale nodded and leaned forward, eyelids fluttering as Raphael kissed his forehead, his temple, the round cheeks, and finally, he dared to join their lips. Aziraphale’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him close, the soft warm body, molding against his own, fitting perfectly against his lean, angular body. After a few moments, Aziraphale’s lips parted and he tasted the sweetness of the angel’s mouth, and the feeling was more incredible than anything he had ever known before. 

When the kiss was broken, they were both flushed, almost glowing from the experience. “Oh--oh my,” Aziraphale whispered against his neck, hot breath sending shivers down Raphael’s spine. 

“I must--and you have--work so we should--right. Mind how you go,” Aziraphale awkwardly patted Raphael’s arm and flew off quickly before Raphael had the chance to call him back. 

Raphael floated weightlessly on his back for a moment, grinning like a madman. 

* * *

Azraphale’s last days in Heaven were approaching, and the two of them could hardly stand to be apart. Raphael remembered that first time Aziraphale had asked him in a quiet voice whether he might retire with him amongst the stars. Astonished and rather terrified by the request, Aziraphale had arrived in the Orion nebula to find a bed with silver satin sheets had materialized from the ether and Raphael waiting for him nervously. 

“Oh, dear it’s lovely, but you didn’t have to trouble yourself.” Aziraphale smiled brightly, already making himself rather comfortable, sitting down and patting the spot next to him. “I don’t particularly need to sleep, you know,” Aziraphale said with a coy look. 

Aziraphale had laid his head on Raphael’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck so sweetly. Being so close to the angel was intoxicating. Aziraphale reached out and interlaced their fingers, squeezing his hand gently. 

Since after a while, sitting up in the rather awkward position became uncomfortable and Raphael was too paralyzed to move, it was Aziraphale that guided him down to lie on the bed, lifted one of his long arms, so he could curl against his side, and wrapped his arm around his waist. “There--isn’t that better?” 

Raphael could only mutter a rather high-pitched “Much,” before giving into the overwhelming need for contact and curling his limbs around the angel in turn. They traded slow kisses, Raphael’s hands mapping out the shape of Aziraphale over his soft robes and Aziraphale stroking his chest or his flanks, soft fingers causing shivers of pleasure to pass through him. Aziraphale responded to him in the most delightful ways, soft moans and noises of pleasure slipping out at the slightest touches. They were both so desperately in need of touch yet found it almost too much to bear at first, so no matter how flustered they became in their explorations, Raphael would always roll over, away from Aziraphale, and pretend to fall asleep. In reality, he could hardly sleep well, especially in the moments when the angel slept with his soft belly pressed against the small of Raphael’s back and one leg and arm draped over him. It was the most exquisite torture. 

Then, one night, Aziraphale was kissing and even daring to nip softly at the skin of Raphael’s neck. Every muscle in the starmaker’s body seemed tense as iron as Aziraphale kept finding the most sensitive spots and lavishing them with attention, causing Raphael’s toes to curl and his hands to curl into Aziraphale’s back just between his wings. 

Aziraphale moaned and arched against him, one thigh pressing between his legs and it sent a rush of pleasure through him. The change in position had made him aware that whatever was happening, it was also happening to Aziraphale. “Did that feel good, love?” 

Aziraphale called him--love. Dear had been remarkable. Love was something else entirely. “You have no idea how good. Would you like it if we--continued tonight.” 

Aziraphale kissed him again and grinned. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you ask that.” 

* * *

  
  


Curled around each other later, bare beneath each other’s eyes skin heated and glowing, they had shared a particularly wonderful afterglow, reveling in the perfection and beauty of each other’s bodies--each tiny freckle, soft roll of flesh, dimple, and birthmark were mapped out with loving hands and kissed. Both of them were so sated and pleasantly tired that first night that even Aziraphale slept soundly through the night. 

In the morning, Raphael felt a rush of fondness looking over at his angel still sleeping, creamy skin and soft curves of flesh illuminated by starlight. He reached over, thinking to cover him so he wouldn’t get cold, but the angel turned and opened his eyes with a contented sigh and a stretch. “Good morning, love.” 

Leaning down, Raphael kissed him softly. “Good morning. How do you feel?” 

“Loved. Cherished. Adored. Absolutely wonderful. I was rather hoping we could try this again if you wouldn’t be opposed.” 

Raphael flushed and grinned. “Of course, angel. Whatever you want.” Seeing the angel relaxed and tousled in the morning was an incomparable delight. 

  
  


There were so many passionate nights and languid mornings in those days, yet each one was a wonder. As their bond grew, so did their passion and boldness, until some nights, they forgot about the bed and simply made love floating and mantled in each others’ wings. This resulted in quite a lot of stardust on their skin, but neither minded as removing it was another excuse to touch and be touched. 

As Raphael’s fingertips brushed a bit of stardust from his shoulder, Aziraphale muttered, “ I always wondered how it would feel to be touched by the starmaker’s hands.” 

“And how does it feel?” Raphael’s fingers moved up his neck and came to rest on his cheek.

“Like heaven. I don’t know how we lived without this before.” Aziraphale turned to smooth Raphael’s rather disheveled copper hair.

Before he could stop himself, Raphael blurted out. “I love you, Aziraphale. You’re my morning and my evening star. I understand if you don’t feel the same, but you will always be the love of my life.” 

“Oh, you silly man. Of course I love you. And I shall visit you every time I return to Heaven. Perhaps one day you can visit me on Earth.” 

“I’ll wait for you. I promise. No matter what.” Raphael pulled him close, gently brushed his tears away. “There’s still a little time before you have to leave. Let’s make the most of it.” 

* * *

  
  
  


Raphael sat in his rarely used workshop already counting the hours until Aziraphale returned, though they had said their goodbyes only two days before. He studied scrolls with star maps late into the morning until someone burst through the door without even knocking. 

He turned to ask what the Hell they were doing, but stopped when he saw it was Lucifer, who looked drawn and haggard despite wearing the most lavish robes and sashes heaven had to offer. 

“I’m sorry for the late hour, Raphael. I just needed someone to talk to--someone who might understand. Could we maybe talk somewhere a bit more private?” 

“Yeah, alright.” Surely it couldn’t hurt to talk to Lucifer a bit. It wasn’t like he had much of a social life, and he missed Aziraphale terribly. 

They flew out to an unnamed planet in the alpha centauri system and landed on a rocky bluff. “Was this one of yours?” Lucifer asked, stretching his wings. 

“Not the planet, but the twin stars just there.” Raphael pointed to the horizon. “Always orbiting each other, never touching, fated to dance around each other, circling each other forever.” 

Lucifer followed his gaze. “Why does it seem like you’re talking about more than just stars?” 

Raphael shook his head, unsure how much he should tell Lucifer. “Nevermind.” 

“Come on. How long have we known each other? You can tell me anything.” The golden-haired angel smiled his charming smile and leaned forward. Lucifer was known for using his charms to get angels from all of the choirs to confess their deepest secrets to him. He had a way of making people feel at ease, important even despite him occasionally having the reputation as heaven’s playboy. 

Finally, Raphael sighed and answered. “There might have been a very specific inspiration for the binary stars.” 

“Wait--” Lucifer’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me! You’re in love, Raphael.” He smiled brightly. “Tell me everything. What’s their name? What choir are they in?” 

“I shouldn’t. I don’t want anything to happen to him. You know angels fraternizing among choirs is frowned upon.” Raphael scooped up a handful of dry and dusty soil, frowning at it. “Sometimes I wonder why She wanted so many planets if they can’t support life. Seems like an awfully big waste of space. Doesn’t it?” Realizing he had forgotten himself in front of the oldest angel, Raphael quickly apologized. 

“Sorry--I shouldn’t have asked that.” 

Lucifer placed his hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have to be afraid of asking questions around me. I welcome them. I encourage all my friends to ask questions.” 

Finally, Raphael whispered. “His name is Aziraphale, and he’s the love of my life. He’s been sent to Earth now. I don’t know when I’ll see him again.” 

“What if I told you there are others in my circle who formed pairs, who love each other freely? I would never discourage them from following their hearts. You should come with me to a meeting. Just one. I think you would find kindred spirits there. I know it has to be lonely without your love.” 

It was lonely and dreadfully boring as if all the colors in his life had disappeared. Even his work had been suffering lately. Kokabiel had just been too kind to comment on it, instead suggesting that he might need a bit of time off. So, Raphael agreed to attend Lucifer’s meeting. 

Lucifer’s band included angels from all choirs of various ages and talents. They were a friendly and generally intelligent group that welcomed him in with pleasant conversation. He was rather surprised to see Kokabiel there among the crowd as he’d always assumed he was rather traditional and conservative in his views. There two notable pairs of angels that Raphael could immediately identify as couples based on the way their fingers kept brushing and the affectionate way they looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. As the night went on, Lucifer even talked of getting God to send Raphael to Earth with Aziraphale or recall Aziraphale to heaven. 

When Lucifer spoke, he was effortless, charismatic, a true revolutionary and idealist that immediately made all who listened feel inspired. Before he finished his speech that night, they came for him. The other archangels and sentinels of Heaven burst into the small meeting room and immediately started rounding up angels and forcing them to the ground. 

“What is the meaning of this? We have the right to assemble here!” Lucifer called out. “Wait until She hears about this!” 

“Lucifer Morningstar, you’re hereby detained for treason and questioning the Divine Plan. Your sentence will be carried out tomorrow.” The largest sentinel suddenly found himself thrown into the wall behind him as Lucifer stood up to his full height and unfurled his wings. 

“If I were you, I would go peacefully, Lucifer. This is not going to end well for you.” Gabriel, now wearing full battle armor glared at him and raised a mighty sword. He was flanked on the left by Uriel and on the right by Sandalphon and Michael. 

“Gabriel please--he wasn’t doing any harm. He was just giving a speech.” Raphael tried to appeal to them before an outright battle ensued. 

“I thought you knew better than to end up following Lucifer, Raphael. Arrest him too.” His hands and wrists were bound and he was forced to his knees. 

A few of the angels had managed to slip out, but most of them were soon bound. Sandalphon was not shy about smiting any that tried to resist. Eventually, even Lucifer was subdued, though it took most of the archangels and sentinels. 

“You can’t do this. Noone did anything wrong.” Raphael tried to appeal to Michael, but she would hear none of his arguments. 

“We have proof here. Scrolls of missives and diaries that indicate you lot were intending to wage war. Lucifer’s speeches and writings are incendiary at best.” Gabriel shook his head. “I’m afraid after today, no one will remember you in Heaven.” 

Since there had been no murders in Heaven, there was some delay in deciding what to do with the rebel angels. The humans would invent that eventually and rather soon after the angels fell from Paradise. One by one, they were dragged into the throne room never to return. Lucifer was the first, facing them with pride that not even the torn robes and bruises could diminish. 

After a long time, Raphael was thrown in front of a large golden throne. He closed his eyes, daring to open them only a slit, expecting to see Her. Instead, after a long moment there was the voice of the Metatron pronouncing his sentence. “Raphael, you have been found guilty of Twenty four counts of questioning the Divine Plan and conspiring to commit treason.” 

“I only went to one meeting,” he protested. “If I could just talk to Her a moment. I know she would forgive me.” 

“Silence. Traitors don’t get appeals. You are hereby banished to Hell where you will live the rest of your days as a demon.” 

“Wait--please!” Raphael looked around in terror, waiting for some executioner to come in and cast him out. The archangels had decided it would be much more efficient and less traumatic if no angel had to be the one to cast their brethren out of Heaven, so the part of the floor Raphael rested on simply dissolved beneath him. 

Arms flailing, searching for anything to cling to as he fell through empty space, he passed by an asteroid belt and grazed it as he fell, knocking loose enough debris to form a comet.

* * *

The remaining bones and sinews of what once were pearlescent wings that gleamed in the golden light of heaven trembled and stretched upward like arthritic fingers or the twisted branches of dying trees. Every moment brought new pain as his tormentors allowed him no respite. They couldn't for an instant let him forget who he was or what he had done. It was the melting down of Excalibur to form a much cruder weapon, the burning away of all that was celestial in order for him to be reformed, to crawl from the ashes. He was not a Phoenix with the hope of flight. The gossamer threads tethering him to the ethereum, to Heaven, had snapped leaving him a weak and broken being, half-formed and mewling on the floor. 

It was a long, slow process to be destroyed, broken down nearly to atoms, the jagged shards then bound back together. Falling had lasted seconds, but the torture after he was cast out of heaven had lasted centuries. In truth, they would never end. An unexpected agony came with the stripping away of his name. He would gain another in a ceremony, a name befitting the vile creature he had become. 

Flame roared from a baptismal font, and through the flames that burned but did not consume,he saw Lucifer, smiling. Plucked from the flames by two lower demons, he was forced to his knees before the Dark One’s throne, the cloak that seemed made of night, brushed his bound hands as he stalked forward to apply the brand. The letters of his angelic name appeared in the air as fiery golden letters. Crawley only dared to look from the corner of his eyes. In an instant, Lucifer moved his hand, sweeping the letters away, extinguishing the last remnants of celestial light and with it the love of his Creator as quickly as snuffing out a candle flame. The chill Crawley felt was immediate, the cold seeping into his bones so profound, he felt he could never be warm again. 

“What shall I call you, my pet? You, angel and maker of stars. A nebula, I understand, celestial nursery and cemetery. Such perfect harmony of creation and destruction. Poor, pitiful being, you shall never see the stars again. Now, you’ll be a creature crawling on your belly, but I will reward you for your loyalty and service as long as you are useful.” Crowley marveled at how Lucifer’s voice could be high and gay as bell one moment and the next a deep, menacing rumble or anything in between. When asked to describe Lucifer after his fall, no one’s description was ever the same. Evil has many faces and everyone’s fears are different. 

“Crawley….yes...the perfect name for an earthbound creature,” Lucifer drawled, his hands moving with deceptive gentleness to tip Crowley’s head up, seconds before one of the sharp nails etched the serpent into his skin, the mark glowing white-hot and smoking. The frightened being could only let out a faint whimper at the searing pain. 

“Beautiful. This is some of my best work,” Lucifer remarked, one hand brushing through Crowley’s copper curls. Despite the terror he felt, Crowley still leaned into it, almost desperate for it after living in agony and sensory deprivation for so long. The only touches he’d felt for months had been from his torturers.

_ Crawley.  _ He despised it, though it befitted his new status. The words shouted by his torturers reverberated in his shell-shocked mind.  _ Worthless. Nobody. Grind him into dust. Crush him beneath your feet. She doesn’t love you anymore.  _

After a few more months, his wings were returning and his hair started growing out. The jade and emerald of his eyes was changing to a deep yellow, the pupils stretching and shifting. He was grateful for the first time for the darkness as his new eyes were as sensitive to the light as a newborn's. 

And then….there was another audience with Lucifer, most beautiful of all the angels, first of the Fallen. Oddly enough, Crawley was unafraid as he was pushed into the throne room and forced to his knees. What other torment could they concoct for him that he hadn't already endured? The meeting wasn't what he had expected. The creature he stood before had a face he would later compare to the subject of a Rembrandt painting, beautiful from every angle. Long, black fingernails and a crown of black polished spikes hinted at the horns and claws he would possess on Earth or in Hell when he needed to motivate the legions of demons in his true form. He wore robes of red and black that shifted with the light over spiked black armor that fit a slender yet muscular frame.

"Crawley…let me look at you." Crawley fought the primal urge to shrink back from the contact as the deceptively soft fingers skimmed his jawline, turned his head this way and that, the sharp fingernails just shy of drawing blood. He gave him an appraising look, red eyes glowing like smoldering embers. Lucifer seemed pleased with his creation, almost as pleased as  _ She  _ was once. "You will serve me well. You're almost ready for your first test." The voice rumbled in tones that were smoky and honeyed and undeniably lethal.

Crawley knew the game by now. Stay in line. Follow orders. Ask no questions. Though the nature of the work had changed, the rules were remarkably similar to Heaven’s. He knew Lucifer preferred to let lower demons do his dirty work just like She preferred to have her angels do hers. It was a fact that did little to comfort him. After a long moment of being inspected like a prized racehorse, he replied. "I won't fail you." 

"No...I expect you won't. You made your decision. Now you're mine for eternity." 

It wasn't long after that meeting that Crawley started to change. At first it was rather terrifying to find his limbs receding and scales erupting from his torso, canines morphing into fangs. It was rather a mercy when at last he discovered he retained his power of speech. Crowley supposed it was all he deserved, being reduced to a creature slinking around on its belly. There were advantages to it, namely that everyone tended to leave him alone, especially when he was going through sheds. He found out with time and practice he could move between his serpent and human form, and discovered this skill could also get him out of quite a lot of meetings and unpleasant tasks. Crowley couldn’t hide from them forever, and he couldn’t get away with scaring away lower demons sent to retrieve him for long before Beelzebub began to get impatient. 

He’d heard rumors of a new realm being created by his old head office, and it was enough to shake him out of his self-loathing. Perhaps he could volunteer for a mission there, assuming all the higher-ranking demons didn’t get the assignments first. Slithering down the hall, Crowley stopped outside the stone archway lined with stalagmites. Almost all the officials of hell and all the lower demons were in attendance which meant this meeting was important. 

"Where's Crawley? He's late again…" Hastur scoffed.

"Best not to bother him. You know how he gets around this time," Ligur answered.

"He's bloody useless anyway if you ask me. I don’t trust him. Never trusted him.” The toad on Hastur’s head let out a low croak of agreement.

Hastur and Ligur were interrupted by a low hiss as Crawley slithered up to a bench, slowly morphing back into his human form. "Good thing no one asked you. 

"Crawley...nice of you to join uzzz," Beezlebub's tone was icy. Crawley remembered them as a rosy-cheeked small angel with a rather sweet singing voice. Now, the Prince of hell was surrounded by a cloud of flies drawn to the scent of decay, their once impish face now marked with sores. 

"Yeah...no problem. What did I miss?" Several demons growled or shot him angry looks as his snake body had slithered right over their toes. 

"There's a new development upstairzzz. God hazzz moved forward with the next phase of creation bringing us one step closer to the Great War. Dagon will elaborate. Dagon---" 

Crawley recalled Dagon had once been somewhat of a historian and archivist among the angels, though now she was more known for handling the more technical aspects of briefings. 

"Right. These are the first humans. Adam, the male and Eve, the female. I understand She's quite proud of them too. Set up a sort of place called a garden for them. The Garden--" Dagon scanned her note--"Of Eden." 

Some of the demons nodded off or looked vaguely horrified during the lecture on human physiology and biology, although Crawley found it rather fascinating. 

"Our Dark Master has chosen Crawley for the honor of making the first contact with the humans." Crawley, who had been puzzling over the whole Apple Tree business, suddenly sat upright. 

"Me?" His voice had risen an entire octave, and he forced himself to sit up straight and look at least somewhat pleased as the other demons shot him glares that were more murderous than usual. "Ah--great. Right. So--" he shrugged. "What's the mission?" 

“Is it to kill them? I bet it’s to kill them,” one of the lower demons exclaimed, clearly delighted at the prospect. 

“Will you shut it. It’s too early for death,” Crawley answered. 

“It’s never too early for death,” Ligur retorted, the forelimbs of his lizard digging into his forehead. 

Dagon cleared their throat. "The mission is to go up to Earth and tempt the humans." 

"Temptation? Right. Easy." Crawley shrugged and slouched in his seat again. 

"Do not reveal your true form to the humans. You are to appear as a serpent." Possibly less easy, Crawley thought. "Right." 

When the day arrived, Lucifer himself had seen him off, had placed a hand on his serpentine head in a gesture more possessive than affectionate as the portal to Eden was opened. 

* * *

  
  


The first thing Crawley was aware of was the feeling of the soil against his skin, the softness of it, the aroma of loam and running water and--life. Although in this form the colors he could see were limited, all around him were green, growing things and clean, clear water under a vast blue sky. It was terrifying at first, it made him want to retreat back into the earth, to slink back into the shadows. Then, there was something soft that tickled at his sensitive underbelly. It was the first time he had ever seen the color green. The first time he had ever felt grass beneath him. There was time, he thought to explore the verdant paradise, to taste the air and feel the sun. 

There was even time to wind himself around the roots of a tree and rest, to slide like a blade through cool water then bask on a rock in the warmth of the noonday sun, great and glorious and radiant in the sky. Crowley could have lived in Eden forever and would have been content to end his days surrounded by its beauty as the serpent if the humans hadn't come along. Just when he had caught the scent of one of the first mice, he saw them. Immediately, he felt something like affection for them, those humans that loved and trusted their Creator with the blind faith of innocents. 

The temptation was rather obvious in the end. All he had to do was whisper in the woman's ear, and she plucked the apple from the tree. Then, he only had to watch from the shadows as she convinced the man to eat. Their punishment had surprised Crowley, and though he was just doing his job, he would later feel an odd pang of sympathy. After all, hadn't he also been cast out of paradise?

Crawley did not report back right away. Instead, he watched them leave, then slithered toward the Eastern Gate where the only other being in the garden was stationed. He shifted back into his demonic form, stretching his onyx wings before folding them neatly at his back. It wasn't part of the mission to engage the angel in conversation, though it wasn't expressly forbidden. Still, he derived a particular illicit thrill out of talking to the enemy. There was something painful about standing so close to that radiance, as if it might burn him anew, though once he grew accustomed to the feeling, it became rather pleasant, like basking on a sun-warmed rock. He felt ice in his veins when he recognized Aziraphale. No. She was even more cruel than he thought. Beneath the fear and sadness, dying embers of hope still burned, and he wondered if Aziraphale would recognize him. When the angel did turn to look at him, there was no trace of recognition on his face. 

"Well...that went down like a lead balloon," he offered, not really expecting the angel to respond. Noone in Heaven remembered him or any of the fallen. The life he shared with Aziraphale so long ago was gone. In the angel’s mind, they were meeting for the first time.

The angel's eyes widened, but he responded with unexpected courtesy (and perhaps a little superiority), obviously saying what was expected of a good angel until Crawley asked him about his flaming sword. 

Aziraphale had looked sheepish and flustered and altogether rather appealing when he confessed that he gave the sword to the humans for protection. Crawley had decided in that instant he still loved the angel, and would keep his promise from so long ago to wait for him as long as necessary. When the skies opened and the first rain came, Aziraphale had sheltered him under his wing. It was the first time anyone had shown Crawley kindness in a long time.

* * *

He reported back to Hell to find himself the target of rather unwanted accolades and attention. His objective has always been to do his job with the maximum efficiency and minimum effort. Now, he was lauded as a hero, held up as an example, and it caused a gnawing anxiety in his gut. He was relieved when he could simply push his way past the constant throng to a quiet corner for a few moments. He very much missed the sunlight and clean, crisp air of the newly born world, missed it so much it caused an exquisite ache in his chest. Perhaps since he had done well, they would favor him with another assignment there. 

"There's my Golden boy. Come here…" Lucifer was standing just behind him, clapping him on the shoulder. "I don't know how you managed it, but you did." He smiled like a charlatan selling snake oil, toothy and calculating. The first Fallen was all lethal grace moving like silk slipping from the shoulders of entwined lovers as he stalked forward to squeeze his shoulder. "Perhaps I'll keep you right here at my side, my familiar. What would you think of that, I wonder? Most demons would find it an honor to serve me.

Crowley struggled to bow, forgetting his place for a moment. "It was easy, really. Once the woman ate the apple, it was easy for him to fall." Crowley hadn't known what to call the way Adam felt for her yet, but he knew the man would have done anything for her, would have followed her anywhere, and he imagined if humans were anything like angels, Adam was in love. 

"How would you like a more permanent assignment with the humans? I could use a demon up there to make sure humans get on the wrong path." 

It was everything Crowley wanted but didn't have rank enough to request. He knew he mustn't appear too keen. He wanted to see more of the earth and the humans, and though he would never admit it, the angel who sheltered him under his wing. He kept his expression neutral. "I'll serve where I'm needed. It can't compare to--ngk--the charms of Hell, but I look forward to getting up there and causing some chaos." 

"Excellent. Just be careful you don't let yourself be tempted by the humans, Crawley." Lucifer’s tone was only half-joking, and Crowley wondered what they weren’t telling him.

A demon tempted by humans? Crawley had scoffed at the idea. The humans delighted him with their ingenuity and tenacity, their capacity for love. There was also a tremendous capacity for hatred and cruelty. Over the years, there were times when Earth appeared more vile than hell without any demonic intervention at all. There were also times when their Creator did things he couldn't fathom, things that seemed closer to Lucifer's chimerical ways. 

With every passing year, the stars seemed to grow farther away, and looking up at them seemed like pressing an iron to a wound. If he couldn’t touch them again, then perhaps he would find a way to at least use them to inspire (tempt if anyone from hell was around to witness) the humans. 

* * *

Crowley came upon the boy resting under a tree on a grassy hill outside of Middlesex. The demon was rather ill-tempered as he was assigned to find a child named Edmond in the tiny village of Haggerton and had been following him all day through the woods and the dirty city streets and now to the hill with a view so stunning, it dulled his irritation. 

“Makes you think, doesn’t it?” Crowley asked, leaning against the trunk of the tree. 

“I think about the stars all the time. I love to come up here where it’s quiet.” He couldn’t see the boy’s face, but he recognized the spark of curiosity, perhaps rebellion even, and he knew this temptation would be easy. All he had to do was encourage the right questions, the boy would do the rest. And one day, the humans would have the secrets of the universe, and science would replace blind faith. 

“I can see why. Do you mind if I share the view a moment. I’m a stranger to your village. Just passing through.” Crowley smiled, though he was unsure if the darkness swallowed his expression. 

“Not at all. The stars belong to everyone. My teachers say I shouldn’t ask questions about them. That they are God’s creation and anything else is unimportant.” The boy hugged his knees to his chest. 

“Your teachers are wrong. There’s nothing wrong with being curious about the world. You keep asking questions--” Crowley waited for him to supply a name. 

“Edmond Halley.” The boy stuck out a hand, only barely visible in the light of the moon and stars. 

Crowley took it and shook it gently. “Crowley. I have the feeling I’m going to hear your name in the future, Mr. Halley.” 

* * *

Over the years, Crowley watched the boy grow and excel in mathematics and science. At Saint Paul’s School, he was an exceptionally bright pupil. Crowley served on the faculty for a short time as an interim professor of physics and astronomy. He was always impressed with the boy’s theories, which were amazingly accurate. 

“Father thinks I should go to work in the family business, but I don’t want to be a soapmaker,” The boy said one day after class as Crowley gathered his papers. 

“I think you should follow your own heart. You’re a scientist, Edmond,” Crowley encouraged. 

Later that year, Mr. Fell joined the faculty as a professor of English and Latin and very nearly dissuaded Edmond from pursuing his dreams, much to Crowley’s dismay. 

“The boy has potential in other areas, Crowley. He’s an absolute genius, I’ll admit, and with the right encouragement, he could be one of ours.” They were seated in a small tavern near the school sharing mutton stew and bread, each with a stack of papers. 

“That’s such a waste, angel,” he replied, sliding his plate over so the angel could dunk his bread into Crowley’s portion of the stew. “You know he’s destined to be a scientist.” 

“I’m just saying you should be careful about just how much you influence him.” Aziraphale lowered his voice and waved the barmaid over to order another pitcher. 

“I’m a demon. It’s my job to tempt him.” Crowley finished the rest of his wine and slumped in his chair. 

* * *

Edmond went on to university at the Queen’s College in Oxford. He was a tall, lanky man who despite having a remarkable intellect, was also prone to forgetting his wig or putting it on quite crookedly or working for days at a time without sleep. The young boy who was quite a loner had found many friends. Crowley made sure he ran into John Flamsteed, the Royal Astronomer, the man who was cataloguing the stars of the northern hemisphere. 

Crowley, arranged for Flamsteed to be late packing up from a lecture so their paths would cross. This time, posing as an inquisitive student, he had detained Flamsteed with questions about stellar cartography just long enough for them to meet. They had become friends and their conversations and nights at the observatory had led Edmond to decide to go to the island of Saint Helena and set up his own observatory. With a small crew and his telescopes and equipment, Halley set sail. 

There were storms and strange weather patterns for the time of year that Crowley suspected were due to heavenly influences. Halley never gave up, even when rain poured down or clouds obscured the stars. He managed to catalog hundreds of stars during his time there. Crowley helped Halley avoid a falling tree during a storm once by changing the direction of its fall, all the while telling himself that he was thwarting the divine plan by helping this human, thus evil was ultimately served. 

Aziraphale introduced Halley to his wife, Mary Tooke in 1682, and it seemed that for a time, his path would be altered. She bore him three children, afterall, and he seemed happy for a time carrying them on his shoulders and teaching them to name the constellations. No papa made the wonderful toys their papa made them, wonderful wind-up toys years beyond their time. 

Crowley was there again, in a different form this time, stirring up his restless spirit, encouraging him to make other voyages to study magnetism and other forces of nature. He introduced Halley to Isaac Newton, another kindred spirit during those years. With Newton's friendship, Halley invented, created, and explored.

* * *

“Crowley--you have to warn him. Halley is in grave danger.” Aziraphale sat outside the college dressed in his professor’s robes, clutching a stack of papers. 

“What do you mean in grave danger? He’s back from his last voyage and doing just fine.” Crowley scowled. “You worry too much, angel.” 

“His latest theory is causing quite the stir. They’re calling him a heretic.” Crowley stood up, feeling far less suited for his professor’s disguise than Aziraphale. 

“What do you mean? It’s just science, angel.” Crowley sighed. “Let me treat you to something--a drink, dinner?” 

Aziraphale placed a hand on his arm, holding him there gently. “Crowley, please listen. I know you care for him, and I don’t want to see any harm befall him.” 

“It’s just an academic paper, angel.” 

“Have you read it? He’s postulating that the Flood was caused by the impact of a comet or meteor." Aziraphale lowered his voice and peered around the corner as if searching the bushes for spies. 

"So? It's just a theory. What's so harmful about that?" Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

"The Almighty doesn't like it. Did you help him come up with it?" Aziraphale asked tersely.

"No. That wasn't my idea. Aziraphale--what will they do to him?" Crowley had seen firsthand what divine retribution felt like, and despite being a demon, he didn’t wish that fate on anyone, especially not a human as extraordinary as Halley. 

"I don't know, but please tell him to stop pursuing that theory." Aziraphale looked positively guilty. 

"Why tell me this?" Crowley stood up, began to pace. 

"I don't want anything to happen to him. Perhaps you could give him another idea. Spark his interest in something--less inflammatory." Aziraphale shrugged. 

* * *

“I don’t understand it, Crowley. They’re ready to tear me apart.” Halley paced the observatory, warily glancing out the window. “All I want is to understand the nature of the Universe.” 

"Asking questions can get you in trouble. I know." Crowley poured him some wine and passed it over. 

"You were expelled from your own academic circle then?" Halley looked away from his telescope with a deep sigh. 

"You could say that--one day I'll tell you the story," Crowley said with a warm chuckle. "Look in that region--over near Orion's belt." 

"How is it that you know so much about stars you must have very advanced training in astronomy and science?" Halley directed the telescope in the direction Crowley advised. 

"No training--not in the sense you know it, but I do know them all by name." Crowley smiled sadly, but Halley was so engrossed in his studies that it escaped his notice. 

"Here--why don't you take a look.” Halley straightened up and gestured to the large telescope. 

Crowley looked through the lens, feeling a pang of sorrow at the glimmering lights so impossibly far away.  _ Hello, old friends _ . “That’s beautiful. You’ve really come so far.” Crowley was stuck with an idea and straightened up. “Have you ever thought of taking another voyage? Just think how amazing it would be to see the southern hemisphere.” Crowley leaned forward, using all his powers of temptation. “Think of all the stars. There are beautiful constellations to study. You could be the first man to chart them.”

  
  
  
  


"Why, old friend? Why have I lived so long? Why have I buried my wife and children? It isn’t natural? It isn’t right?” The old man gave a weary sigh and coughed, the night air too cold for his weak lungs. 

“I’m still here. And you still have your work. Just think. Not much longer and you’ll see the comet yourself.” Crowley tried to give the man hope. He’d always had more imagination than the average demon, it was one thing that Hell couldn’t take from him. He could sense his old friend fading fast, it was the curse of developing attachments to humans, their lives spent in less than a hundred years. What was a hundred years to an immortal being? 

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was only a fortnight before Halley took ill, and Crowley knew he would not recover. He certainly wouldn’t live sixteen more years. Aziraphale visited him, hoping to bring some comfort, both knowing they were serving a sort of death watch for their friend. “Is there anything that can be done? Can’t you ask Her for a little more time?” 

“I’ve done as much as I can I’m afraid,” the angel replied sadly. “Heaven is rather cross with him right now. He caused quite the stir with his discoveries.” 

“Edmund has always been curious about the world. What’s wrong with that?” Crowley argued. 

“Well--there are certain things about the nature of the Universe the humans aren’t ready to know,” Aziraphale replied, clutching at the folds of his light blue tunic. 

“I shouldn’t have encouraged him. I just thought I would help him learn some secrets, create a little unrest, like Prometheus giving the humans fire.” Crowley rarely expressed guilt over his mostly mischievous temptations, but he had a bond with Halley. 

The candle flickered on the crude, dusty table, and Crowley moved to stand beside Halley as he coughed once more. “Oh, dear.” Aziraphale approached the side of the bed and Crowley looked at him imploringly. The angel pressed a hand to his forehead and soothed him with quiet words. “We’re still here, dear man.” 

Halley’s eyes widened at a figure in the corner, whose arrival was preceded by a feeling of cold pervading the room. Death stood, nightmare visage with his eyeless sockets concealed by a black hood. “Edmond Halley,” He said in a surprisingly soft rumbling voice. 

“No, you can’t take him yet, it isn’t time. Just a little longer. They can wait. Crowley growled, hovering over the bed. 

“I cannot defy Her will. If I come back without him, She won’t be pleased.” Death started to move forward, black wings folded but twitching at his back. 

“It’s cold. Crowley!” Edmund’s eyes widened and he reached out a pale trembling hand towards the figure in the corner. 

“We’re not going to let him take you yet.” Crowley shot Death a withering look then his gaze flicked desperately to Aziraphale. 

“Perhaps you could prolong your stay just a little while, Azrael. I hear there’s a very nice tavern nearby. Grant us an hour perhaps to say our Goodbyes.” Aziraphale smiled pleasantly, then seeing Death was unmoved, extended his wings with a burst of light that drove the figure back. 

Though Azrael could have pulled rank, he was rather peckish, and a bit taken aback by the display. (There was also the fact that Azrael owed Aziraphale a favor from a few centuries ago.)

“One hour. Then, I’ll return for him.” Aziraphale knew Death was most likely not afraid of him but rather tired of arguing. Besides, Death still owed him a favor from a few centuries before. Death shrugged, left the room, and disappeared in a thick black cloud.

“Now, Edmond. Look up there.” Crowley pointed to the ceiling and in an instant, the mud and thatch turned into a clear night sky full of stars that seemed endless, the same night sky that Halley had watched as a boy on a hill near Haggerston. 

Aziraphale watched in wonder as the comet Halley had studied for years streaked across the perfect sky, the brilliant tail, a fiery streak blazing across the ceiling, the comet changed its path and moved closer to the bed, its harmless fire dissolving as Halley reached out to touch it. “It’s magnificent.” 

“Would you like to get closer?” Crowley leaned forward with a grin, and Halley’s eyes had the mischievous expression of the young boy sitting on the hill once more.

And then, the room changed again and it was as if Aziraphale, Crowley, and Halley all blazed through the heavens at thousands of kilometers as if they were riding on the back of the comet themselves flying past stars and planets, shielded from the cold of space and safe from harm. When the room returned to its former state and the last of the miracle faded, Halley fell into a deep sleep, and Death returned to claim him. 

* * *

It was 1986 and Crowley and Aziraphale sat together on a hillside strictly for the sake of observing "a great astronomical wonder " as Aziraphale had called it. It was not a date, merely a truce between opposite sides for the night to observe an event that occurred only once in a human's lifetime. Perhaps Aziraphale might permit him to call him a friend. 

Crowley always looked at the comet's appearance as bittersweet. It had passed the first time the day he fell, long before the humans had discovered it. He had seen the comet pass so very many times, but only once before with Aziraphale. Back then, the circumstances had been grave and sad. 

Now, the only thing for Aziraphale to complain about was Crowley’s teased hair growing out from a rather abysmal hairstyle called a mullet and his sequined jacket with enormous shoulder pads. Well, that and being peckish. Crowley had seen to that by providing a basket of overpriced delicacies the angel was sure to love and a very good vintage. 

"My dear, you really do look ridiculous." 

"I don't. It's called fashion. Not all of us want to stay in the 19th century." 

Aziraphale bristled and smoothed out his waistcoat looking almost hurt. 

"Look, angel. You always look good no matter what you wear." 

"My old coat is just comfortable. Like an old friend." Aziraphale sat back and watched the sky in silence for a few moments. 

"It suits you." 

"Your clothes suit you too. Just promise me you won't ever cut your hair in that dreadful style again." 

"Don’t worry, angel." He laid back on the blanket, inches and light-years from Aziraphale. 

"I got you something." Aziraphale reached into an old carpet bag that emitted a little puff of dust.

"A present? For me? An angel giving a demon a present? Won't that get you in trouble?" 

"Just--don't tell anyone." Aziraphale pulled out an old brass telescope and handed it over to Crowley with a smile. 

"I won't. It's amazing, angel. Thank you." Crowley took it and began examining it. 

Crowley stood up and set up the base, carefully aligning it with the comet's path. He looked through the lens for a long moment then turned to Aziraphale with a smile. “Go on. Try it out.” 

Aziraphale leaned in so close that Crowley’s chin brushed the top of his head and Aziraphale’s soft body pressed up against Crowley’s chest. It was almost too much to bear, the closeness and warmth that Crowley had craved for so long so close. He froze for a moment and gasped, then quickly stepped back, worrying he was corrupting his innocent angel. 

“It’s beautiful. Here, you look again. It’s your present.” The angel looked quite adorable with the slightest pout of his full lips and the flush of color in his cheeks, red and inviting as Eden’s first apples. 

Crowley sighed contentedly and followed the comet’s path across the sky, its fiery tail as bright as he remembered from so many passages. 

Maybe before the comet came the next time, he would be able to admit his feelings to Aziraphale. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“ 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was created for the Good Omen's Valentine's Day Exchange for @Taurusattacks78! I enjoyed writing it for you and getting to indulge my astronomy nerd side, and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
